Chapter 5 #2
I lose track of time in the large theatre, the lack of windows making it seem like time ceases to exist. I’m just finishing adding a deeper green hue to some trees when I hear a small sneeze toward the back of the auditorium.
I look out but the lights are blinding making it impossible to see.
Bill agreed to leave the stage lights on for me as long as I promised to turn them off before I head out.
“Hello?” I ask, the silence eerie as I continue to squint out into the pool of seats.
I move to the edge of the stage using my hands to frame my face and see the small dark haired girl from before, her hair down now, ebony waves shadowing her small face, she has on a pair of cat ear headphones that are a glittery pink color as she stares at her phone.
I jump down, walking toward the back of the theater and watch as her eyes flicker up to me.
“You’re still here?” I ask, but she just holds up a finger, signaling for me to hold on before taking off her head phones.
“What?” she asks, her voice short and to the point.
“You’re still here?” I look at her amused. As a former child who also took themselves a little too seriously, I can appreciate the way she doesn’t take shit from anyone, even and especially adults.
“It appears so.” She pushes back on her headphones.
“Isn’t it gettin’ late? Do you need me to call your mom?” I force myself to be friendly, to not come off creepy but the look of disgust she gives me shows I’m failing. She slides back off her headphones, annoyed.
“My mom isn’t coming. She’s at work. I’m waiting for my brother.”
“Ah, I see.” I slide down into the chair beside her and she shuffles her body slightly away. I pull out my phone, checking the time. 8:15 PM. Rehearsal ended about an hour and a half ago. “This brother of yours…he got a watch?” I smile to show I’m kidding but she rolls her eyes.
“He’s at practice. He’ll come after. Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” Her face is completely closed off. Devoid of emotion, so similar to how I was as a kid and I feel this pull toward her.
“Hungry?” I ask, nodding toward the back stage. “I know where they keep all the good snacks.”
She eyes me suspiciously but then stands, heaving a worn out Jan sport over her shoulder.
“Lead the way, Rapunzel."
I roll my eyes but offer her a friendly smile to signal a truce. She doesn’t return it but I know we’re getting somewhere.
We’ve made it halfway through a giant bag of hot Cheetos and are both snorting laughing at almost getting caught by a rogue front of house employee.
“Shhh, we can’t get you kicked out of the program,” I say as we tuck ourselves behind an old box of stage props.
“Program? I’m not in this program.” She giggles more, elongating the word program like someone imitating Scrooge McDuck.
My brows dip, confused as to how she’s in the show when all the other dancers, with their designer travel bags and dance company logo plastered to the sides of them, are in this elite and very expensive ballet.
My eyes land on her Jan sport again, worn and gray, black sharpie crosses out the initials A.S.
, new initials replacing them. I know a hand me down when I see one, spent years living off them, and my heart instantly flares for the little girl beside me.
Not with pity like I’m sure she gets from the rest of Boston’s elite, but with respect, with familiarity.
She sees it, the realization surely written all over my face.
“I’m not really into ballet, anyway. I usually only do the spring musical and summer show but they’re doing Mom a favor, I guess.”
I nod, catching her eye for a second but she cringes away.
“Don’t feel bad for me,” she says accusatorially.
“I don’t,” I laugh and I can tell she knows I mean it. “We aren’t so different.” I nudge her with my elbow but she rolls her eyes.
“Please. I heard the others talking. Don’t your parents own like that big grocery store or whatever?
” Her eyes hold so much accusation and I get it because I’m sure mine did too when I was her age.
The endless blame I put on those who had more than me.
Those who could help the people who really needed it but only helped in ways that were beneficial to them.
“Nope, the people who adopted me do,” I wink, pushing to stand now that the footsteps of whoever was back here have long since disappeared.
I dust myself off, extending her a hand.
She’s wary but curious and takes it looking at me with a bit more recognition as if she’s starting to see some of herself in me too.
“Fine,” she says, shaking my hand in a truce that’s slightly undermined by her sly grin. “So tell me, is it really true that you got banned from that sleep away camp in Sweden?” An image of that gossip article from years ago is pulled from the recesses of my memory, and I cringe.
“Rule number one, little bird—do not Google me,” I say, chuckling as I poke at her nose.
“Carmen!” A strong, masculine voice interrupts us and the footsteps reappear.
“I swear she was in the auditorium thirty minutes ago, working on her homework just like always.” The employee who was back here earlier sounds closer now and I widen my eyes at the girl who I now realize is the Carmen they're looking for. She sighs, pulling back on the backpack.
“Back here,” her little voice rings out and for a second I wonder if I could actually get in trouble for this.
“Thank god. Where the hell were you?”
I spot him before he spots me, his eyes hard as he takes in the girl who skipped out from behind the large box before I could register what was going on.
“I was hanging out with—” Carmen flicks her eyes around the room before pointing right at me, “—her.”
I take a step out of the deep shadow of the prop closet and smile innocently.
“Sloane?” Andy’s voice is as surprised as I feel.
“Andrew,” I blush, nodding as I remember our flirtation at the bar..
“What are you doing here?” I watch as Andy’s thoughts go every which way, his brow scrunches in suspicion as if this is some sort of prank and Carmen looks at him like he’s grown two heads.
“Wait, do you…know her?” She stares at her brother.
“You could say that,” I offer my own confusion must be visible because Andy’s face softens. “And you know him?” I direct it at Carmen.
“My brother? Yeah, I know him.”
Realization dawns on me, my mind circling back to the initials on the backpack.
“Right…sorry to scare you guys.” I nod politely toward the Boston Conservatory employee who is clearly pissed.
“Thanks, Meryl. I’ll take it from here.” Andy nods to her, too and she glances down at Carmen.
“Next time, let me know if you're going to galavant backstage,” she says to the wisp of a girl, and Carmen mocks a salute. I crack a smile before quickly burying it at the glare Meryl shoots at me. Sorry, I mouth before she turns and leaves.
“She was getting me a snack. You guys need to chill. I was gone for like fifteen minutes.” Carmen seems bored by this entire situation.
“More like half an hour. I called and texted you,” Andy says, his tone almost identical to the one Grant sometimes takes with me.
She holds up her phone smiling. “Dead.” She shrugs and then smiles at me in victory. I shake my head slightly, silently begging to not be brought into this but Andy catches it.
“And why are you here?” He looks at me expectantly, only a hint of that unbridled interest from the other night on display behind this bizarrely authoritative version of him. I fight the heat that threatens to warm my cheeks.
“I work here?” I say my voice is more defensive than I want it to be.
“She’s doing our sets for the Nutcracker,” Carmen chimes in.
“And apparently stealing small children in her spare time. Didn’t really think of you as much of a kidnapper,” he says, that boyish charm filtering back in.
“Well, you shouldn’t really be thinkin’ of me at all.” I give him a tight smile. Andy’s eyes flash with the memory of the bar as he smirks.
Carmen’s face wrinkles in disgust. “Please tell me you guys don’t know each other…like that?” I match it, even though, I’m not sure she’s completely wrong.
“Definitely not,” I mimic Carmen’s stance, hands on my hips, eyes directed at her brother. He looks between us and I see stress wrinkle between his brows—guilt, which is not really what I expected if I’m being honest.
“Were you mean to my friend, Andy?” Carmen asks, and I bite my lip to hide my smile. Andy's face is incredulous.
“Turning my own sister against me?” he asks, and I roll my eyes to distract from my amusement. I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am.
“Pretty sure you’re doin’ that all by yourself.”
A growl sounds from Carmen’s stomach, and we both turn our heads at her as she flashes an irritated smile. “Okay, can we go to Taco Bell, please?”
“Maybe.” Andy shuts his eyes, dragging a hand down his face before dipping his head toward her bag and nudging her out the door before turning around toward me.
“Good to see you, Sloane,” he says, differently now that his sister is down the hallway. There’s sincerity behind his tired shrug of a smile. “Almost like it was fate.”
“Definitely not fate,” I say in a flurry, wincing internally.
“Serendipity, then.”
“Did you just learn that one?” I run a hand through my hair, trying to disguise the way I watch him more closely.
His exhaustion is apparent and I remember what Carmen had said—that her brother was at practice.
There’s a slight sheen on his tanned skin, a hint of tautness in his neck and arms, like he’s still recovering from the exertion, and I can’t help but wonder how often he does this: speeding over from Astor to Boston’s city center, picking up his sister who’s clearly on a scholarship with a hand me down back pack.
He laughs. “There’s a movie—”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it.” I cut him off, wincing at the way my attention snaps to him, at his ability to draw me in even when I don’t want to be drawn.
I need to be a good sister, because once Grant finds out about Connie—finds out about Elliot—hooking up with his teammate will seem like child's play. The least I can do is not break the only two rules he’s given me.
“Thanks. For staying with Carm,” he says, just as I’m about to exit. Genuine gratitude in his amber speckled eyes. “I owe you one.”
“It was nothin’.” I let a genuine smile slip out, frustrated by my inability to fully reject this boy, because I know myself and he will wear me down.
Get me to do something that might wreck all my plans.
Like staying in Grant’s good graces so he’ll finally see our mom.
I turn toward the parking lot, each stomp an attempt at extinguishing the small flame that lights inside me whenever that boy gives me that toothy grin of his.
I take the long way, trying to avoid Carmen where she’s waiting in the lobby, only to see them pulling out of the conservatory just as I reach the street corner.
She waves—way more kindly than I would’ve suspected for a child who taunted me with the nickname Rapunzel all afternoon—and I feel my heart swell.
And then Andrew locks eyes with me and fucking winks.